After they lived in America for many years, old Paddy
became ill and was
about to die. As Mike was still his best friend, he
called Mike to his
bedside to hear his last requests. "See that they bury me
on a hill in the
sun," Paddy says, "I hate the thought of the cold and the
damp goin'
through me bones. And be sure that only Fether Francis
reads over me.
He's the last real priest left over here. And in me
closet, in a wood box,
be a quart of the finest Irish Whiskey I brought when we
came from the Old
Country. After they close me up, sprinkle it slowly over
the top of me
grave." Mike, overcome with emotion at the loss of his
oldest friend, says,
"I'll be seein' to it you're buried in the warm, and I
know Fether Francis
will never refuse to read over you. But about the
whiskey...would you be
mindin' too much if I run it through me kidneys once
before sprinklin' yer
grave?"
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